


Canadian Tuxedo

by not_worth_a_bean, notaquaman



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluffy, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Not a crack fic, tomato sauce - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:29:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8282627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_worth_a_bean/pseuds/not_worth_a_bean, https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaquaman/pseuds/notaquaman
Summary: Keith doesn't shower. Lance is tired. Help them both.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The rest of it's not only dialogue, we promise.

“Hello, this is the Shirogane apartment, this is Shiro speaking. If you’re trying to reach the princess, you can access her direct line at 1800583LION. Please leave a message at the beep.”

“Shiro, I know this isn’t a voicemail. I can hear your dog barking in the background.”

“Please leave a message at the beep.”

“Shiro, he’s covered in red stuff and I have no idea what it is!”

“Who? Who’s covered in red stuff?”

“Who’s covered in red stuff? Who do you think’s covered in red stuff? It’s not me! I was sitting here, watching my Real Housewives of New Jersey, and he walks in covered in a strange red paste that dripped onto my freshly vacuumed “wipe your paws” welcome mat! He didn’t even take off those gogo boots he calls fashionable shoes!”

“Breathe, Lance. Did you ask him what it is?”

“No, he just sat down on my La-Z-Boy! MY La-Z-Boy! He has a rickety wooden chair he wanted, and he sits on my La-Z-Boy which I polish and clean daily with leather furniture polish. Shiro please.”

“Did you ask him?”

“It could be blood! What if it’s blood? I’m too young to go to prison.”

“You’re not going to go to jail Lance. It’s probably just...uh. Sauce.”

“What kind of sauce, the sauce that gets cooked in your veins? I don’t know what he get’s up to! He doesn’t talk to me! He doesn’t even shower!”

“What does showering have to do with-”

“Everything. It has everything to do with it.”

“Go ask him what it is.”

"Shiro!"

"Go."

“Kk, talk to you soon.”

***

“Shiro, I licked him, I licked the disgusting crop top jacket that was there stagnating on my La-Z-Boy on my nasty boyfriend. He hasn’t washed it. I put my Mouth on something that hasn’t been washed in three weeks!”

“You could have just asked, Lance.”

“I couldn’t have. He just sat there dripping. I couldn’t do it.”

“Lance, did you find out what the red stuff was?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what was it.”

“Shiro I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Shiro, it was tomato sauce. Somebody wasted good Prego tomato sauce on his sorry ass.”

“How do you know it Prego?”

“I always know Prego.”

“O...kay. Why is he covered in Prego?”

“Shiro.”

“What?”

“Shiro.”

“What?”

“Shiro.”

“What, Lance? What?”

“Some old lady threw it at him because he smelled like a skunk.”


	2. Double O Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes Hunk. He's a real hunk.

Hunk was having a good day. He really, really was. The sky has been blue, the sun had been shining, the grass was green. It was the perfect temperature. 

He was happy. Shay and him had had a good date. There was coffee involved. She kissed him on the cheek. 

Then he got the call.

“Hello?” Hunk answered with a smile, he loved his friends.

“Hunkalicious definition make the boys go loco, help.”

“Lance! What’s wrong, are you okay? Is Keith okay? Oh god, is Coran dead? I knew he was looking sickly. Oh god why him?”

“Hunk-a-burnin’ love, I’m the one dying,” cried Lance. 

“What! Lance you're too young. Too beautiful. What do you need? A kidney? I got two. A lung, I got two. You already have all of my heart. Tell me, what do you need. Is anyone here a physician.”

“Hunka-Hunka, he hasn’t done his laundry in two weeks. Almost three!”

It was at this point that Hunk paused, confused. “Who hasn’t?”

“Keith! I can smell the pile from the living room!”

“Lancelot, the platonic love of my life, why don’t you wash it?”

“Because!”

“Use your words.”

He could hear Lance sputtering on the other line, and faint creaking which could only mean one thing, the Bad Chair.

“Lance, buddy, pal. Don’t do this to yourself. You’re going to cause back pain.”

“Maybe I deserve it, Hunkerdoodle, maybe I deserve it.” Lance sighed.

“No you most definitely don’t, you beautiful bastard. I’ll come over right now and do his laundry.” Hunk was already out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pidge-r Parker

Pidge was having an alright day. They had finally taken a shower, after a record setting 12 days. Feeling refreshed, they decided to take a nap. Waking up to the sound of the classic melody of Ludacris’s Gold Digger from the smash hit Will Smith animated movie Shark Tale.

“What do you want?”

“Pidge, there’s a fucking black widow in our house. In my family cooking pot inherited from my great-great grandmother.”

“Kill it then.”

“What if it bites me, Pidge?! I can’t die! I’m too young! I haven’t even won the chili cook off yet. This is the year I beat Hunk.”

“Get Keith to kill it, Lance.” They sighed, putting on their glasses and sitting up from their, in Lance’s words, nest.

“Pidge, he already tried. He saw it first. Apparently, he has a sword.”

  
“Apparently?” They asked. “Did you not know about the sword?”

“No, did you? He just...produced it. I don’t know where from. He almost broke my pot!”

“Was it up his ass?”

“I want to say no, but I honestly wouldn’t put it past him. The grease has gone to his brain.”

“Where’s Keith right now?”

“I… He’s passed out on the floor. He got bested by the cabinet. He hit his head trying to get my pot.”

“Oh my god.”

“You encouraged this. This is his fault, but you encouraged this. You and your no sleep or shower brigade. Do you know what noxzema is, Pidge? Do you even know?”

“No, you unbelievable idiot, poke him or something. I don’t even care at this point I am not coming over to kill another spider.”

“It tingles, Pidge. Noxzema tingles. Just like my spidey-senses.”

Pidge sighed. It was time to kill a spider. They walked out of their house, got on their Razor scooter and rode their way down the quiet streets of the city to Lance and Keith’s first floor apartment.

If they don’t have tissues, Pidge swore on their dog's grave that Pidge wouldn’t kill the two idiots. They’re a good person, and a very good spider killer. Not a murderer.

They rang the doorbell. Nobody answered. Pidge tried knocking on their window. No lights were on.

“Lance, where are you?” They knew Keith wouldn’t be coming to the door, he was still passed out, most likely. Pidge tried the doorknob, finding it unlocked. Oh God.

“Lance? Are you dead?”They called into the rather ominous apartment. “Call of Duty prepared me for this.” They picked up their scooter, and slung it across their shoulders. They crept slowly into the dark house, looking for signs of a break in. Or worse, zombies. (It was coming soon. Pidge had started stocking up. Toilet paper would be like gold. Canned food like silver. Pidge already had a cabin out in Wisconsin they were fortifying. The fences were up, concrete surrounded by barbed wire chainlink. They took trips up there sometimes. Their water filter was already gathering rain water.)

Lance burst from the bathroom. The lights were off in there too which explained how Pidge had not noticed him. He had bags under his eyes, even though Pidge knew Lance had slept at least 10 hours last night. He claimed anything under was bad for the skin.

“I turned the light off to catch the spider off guard,” He said, voice haunted. “And fluorescent lights are bad for the skin.” Pidge knew that turning off the lights was not how to catch a spider off guard. But they were ready. They might not have wanted to, but they were ready. They always were.


	4. Nut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hello there

Keith smiled at General Grievous. "Hello there, daddy."

**Author's Note:**

> we're not sorry, Hunk is important. remember that.


End file.
